University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


Visions  of  the  Dusk 


tyo 


Visions  of  the  Dusk 

By 
Fenton  Johnson 


Author  of 
"A   Little    Dreaming" 


F.  J. 

130  West  134th  Street, 
New  York 


Copyright,  1915 

By 
FENTON   JOHNSON 


Press  of 
TRACHTENBERG  CO.,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 


DEDICATION 

To  Dr.  Albert  Shaw,  Jeanne  Robert  Foster  and 
Josephine  Turck   Baker. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PRELUDE    1 

A  GEORGIA  LULLABY 2 

DE  CABIN   3 

THE  LONELY  PIPER 5 

Two   SONGS    6 

REVERY    7 

DE  OL'  HOME 8 

THE  CREED  OF  THE  SLAVE 9 

KIN  You  TELL  ME 10 

THE  LOST  SUMMER 11 

HYMN 12 

THE  SOUL  OF  BOSTON 13 

SINGING   HALLELUJIA    14 

THE   MAGIC   MASTER 15 

To  MY  FATHER 16 

HOWDY  Do  17 

LULLABY    18 

THE  SOLDIERS  OF  THE  DUSK 19 

LONG  DE  COOL  o'  NIGHT 20 

THE  DYING  ROSE 21 

A  FRAGMENT    21 

DE  APRUL  SONG 22 

SLAVE  DEATH  SONG • 23 

DE  CALL   24 

THE   PASSING   INDIAN 25 

FIDDLAH  IKE   26 

AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  MANDY 27 

JUBAL'S    FREE    , . , .  29 


Contents 


PAGE 

29.  SONG  OF  THE  WHIRLWIND 30 

30.  MY  GOD  IN  HEAVEN  SAID  TO  ME 31 

31.  THE  HYPOCRITE  DEVIL 32 

32.  LOVE  ME 34 

33.  THE  PRODIGAL  SONG 35 

34.  THE  SONG  OF  BEULAHLAND 37 

35.  DE  BAN'   37 

36.  PLANTATION  SERMON    38 

37.  THE  PHANTOM  RABBIT 39 

38.  To  JEANNE  ROBERT  FOSTER 40 

39.  S.   COLERIDGE  TAYLOR 40 

40.  ETHIOPIA   42 

41.  DE  CHU'CH    48 

42.  DE  MULE 50 

43.  QUESTIONS 51 

44.  LYRICS  OF  LOVE 51 

45.  WHEN  APRIL  COMES 54 

46.  THE  CLINGING  Kiss 55 

47.  EULOGY  ON  THE  FAIRIES 56 

48.  MEMORIES    58 

49.  WHEN  MY  BONNIE  DANCES 58 

50.  MARY  ON  AUGUST  THE  FIRST 60 

51.  DOUGLAS    60 

52.  OL*  AGE   62 

53.  THE  WRAITHIES'  MESSAGE 63 

54.  WASHIN'  DAY 64 

55.  AT  THE  SHRINE  OF  MARY 65 

56.  A  PILGRIM  OF  THE  DUSK 67 

57.  DEATH    67 

58.  WARNING    68 

59.  DECLARATION    68 

60.  TURN  DOWN*  THE  LAMP 69 

61.  COMIN'  HOME   70 

62.  L'ENVOi 71 


FOREWORD. 

Mr.  Johnson  is  a  young  colored  poet  of  America ;  some 
of  his  verse  is  in  formal  cultivated  English,  some  in  the 
corrupted  language  of  the  American  negro.  The  latter 
rings  true;  it  expresses  with  singular  intensity  the  joys 
an  sorrows  of  a  subject  race. — 

Literary  World  (London)  April  2,  1914. 

A  slender  book  of  verse,,  "A  Little  Dreaming"  is  the 
work  of  Mr.  Fenton  Johnson,  a  young  Negro  poet,  born 
in  Chicago  in  1888  and  educated  at  the  University  of 
Chicago  and  the  Northwestern  University.  He  has 
written  short  stories  and  dramas  of  Negro  life  and  con 
siderable  lyric  verse.  "A  Little  Dreaming"  gives 
promise  of  a  true  poetic  gift,  a  natural,  spontaneous 
lyricism  with  the  same  distinguishing  racial  qualities 
that  characterise  the  work  of  Paul  Lawrence  Dunbar. 
Many  of  the  lines  are  melodious  with  the  primitive, 
plaintive  reediness  of  the  Negro  "Spirituals"  of  slave 
days.  The  chant-like  form  is  effectively  used,  as  in  his 
lament  for  Dunbar. 

American  Review  of  Reviews,  January  1914. 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


PRELUDE. 

'Tis   twilight  dim;   the  musing  dreamer  sits 
Before  his  hearth,  the  sunset  on  his  brow, 
And  thus  he  ponders  ere  the  birth  of  dusk. 

Some  love  the  land  where  grew  the  laurel  tree, 
The  home  of  Gods  and  stern  faced  warriors, 
The  altar  Nature  built  and  Art  preserves; 
And  long  to  hear  heroic  note  from  Pan. 
Such  deem  their  love  the  freeborn  English  note, 
And  others  love  the  freeborn  English  note, 
The  music  of  the  songs  the  lusty  sang 
In  Mermaid  Tavern  and  the  Old  Boar's  Head, 
The  gift  of  Shakespeare  and  the  heritage 
Of  Tennyson,  the  child  romance  hath  nursed. 

And  yet  some  say  to  me,  "O  Man  of  Dusk, 

Give  us  thy  songs  in  broken  Afric  tongue, — 

The  music  o  fthe  peasant  in  the  South — 

The  native  strain  alone  is  poetry. 

Be  thou  as  Burns  or  Dunbar  was, 

Be  thou  as  Lowell  in  his  adobe  home; 

The  humble  peasant  is  the  truest  bard." 

'Tis  not  in  classic  mould  or  English  flame, 
Or  lilting  song  from  crudest  peasant  tongue 
The  soul  that  seeks  the  beauty  of  a  truth 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

Can  gaze  upon  the  ever  gleaming  light 

That  flickers  on  the  summit  Poesy. 

But  'tis  in  living  and  the  wonder  Life 

We  find  the  soul  of  Beauty  is  a  God; 

The  vision  is  the  thing,  and  not  the  word. 

Then  come  with  me  where  Life  and  Soul  hath  met; 

And  hear  the  mother-croon  of  far-away, 

The  dying  note  of  Georgia  lullaby. 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

A  GEORGIA  LULLABY. 
1. 

Sleep,  my  honey,  dreaming  time  is  here, 
Fancy  in  her  barge  is  drifting  near, 
In  the  slumb'ring  pine  the  birdie  sings 
To  the  weary  charge  beneath  her  wings. 
Sleep,  my  honey,  sleep  to-night,  to-night. 

2. 

Lay  your  head  upon  my  heaving  breast; 
From  my  soul  I  grant  you  peace  and  rest; 
Never  sandman  come  to  wake  my  child 
With  a  melody  so  strangely  wild. 
Sleep,  my  honey,  sleep  to-night,  to-night. 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

DE    CABIN. 
1. 

Now  have  you  nevah  seed  j  es'  whar  we  stayed 

Wen  we  war  jes'  erbout  so  very  high? 

'Twas  whar  bluegrass  am  growin'  'side  de  do* 

An'  rabbits  go  a-la'kin'  o'  de  hill, 

'Twas  in  de  cabin  whar  mah  Mammy  lived 

An*  Daddy,  too, — de  blessed  man  ob  Gawd — 

Jes'  on  de  othah  side  de  Gunnel's  house 

An'  bac'  de  fiel'  whar  growed  de  cotton  flowah. 

Go  talk  erbout  yo'  mansions  made  o'  brick, 

Go  holler  'bout  yo'  lawn  dat's  green  an'  wide, 

You  kain't  mak'  me  fu'git  mah  oF,  ol'  home, 

Whar  Mammy  wu'ked  an'  Mammy  lived  an'  died. 

'Twas  jes'  some  bo'ds  an'  plastah,  too, 

All  put  tegethah  in  a  so't  o'  way 

Dat  mak'  you  know  d'aint  no  othah  house 

Jes'  lak  de  cabin  dat  ol'  Daddy  built. 

But  sweat  an'  sass  an'  hungah  was  de  price 

We  paid  tuh  git  dat  sheltuh  on  its  feet. 

Mah  Daddy  built  it  by  de  bright  moonlight 

W'en  all  his  wu'k  wid-in  de  fiel'  was  done, 

An'  weddah  goblins  he'ped  him  Ah  kain't  say, 

But  nevah  had  a  da'ky  such  a  home. 

Erroun'  de  stcmp  mah  Mammy  trained  huh  vines, 

An'  in  de  ya'd  dey  growed  de  violet, 

a 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

De  honeysuckle  an*  de  roses,  too, 

An'  o'  them  towahed  sweet  magnolia  tree. 

De  lily  ob  de  valley  lingahed  neah, 

An*  nigh  dem  all  pealed  fo'th  de  mockin'  bu'd. 

(Go  'way !    Ah  wish  mah  soul  dat  Ah  was  daih.) 

W'en  ebenin'  come,  an'  all  de  wu'k  was  done, 

Mah  Daddy  stacked  his  hoe,  an'  et  his  meal 

Wid  me  an'  Sukey,  Sam  an'  Viney,  too, 

An'  Mammy  puttin'  fo'th  huh  cookin'  good — 

De  sweetin'  'taters  brown  ez  Dinah's  cheeks, 

De  'possum  grinnin'  in  his  gravy  thick, 

An'  hoecake,  hot  an'  sweet  an'  greasy,  too, 

An'  Daddy  say  his  blessin',  "O,  good  Lawd, 

Gib  all  de  worl'  jes'  what  You  gib  to  us" 

An'  Mammy  add,  "A-men !"  fun  out  huh  hea't. 

An'  w'en  ouah  stomachs  bulged  jes'  lak  de  pigs 

We  sat  o'  played  upon  de  cabin  stoop; 

OF  Daddy  picked  his  banjo:  "Hum !— Ti !— Turn !" 

An'  sing,  "Mah  Susy,  Susy,  Susy  Gal, 

You's  sweetuh  dan  de  honey  on  de  vine". 

An'  Mammy  say,  "You  sho's  a  funny  man, 

Go  'long!     You  ain't  a-talkin'  'bout  dis  chile". 

An'  fo'  we  laid  upon  ouah  baids  o'  straw 

OF  Daddy'd  git  upon  his  knees  an'  pray, 

"Good  Lawd,  keep  all  mah  folks  f'um  ha'm  an'  hu't; 

Mah  wife,  mah  chillun,  an'  mah  Mestah,  too." 

Mah  Daddy  nevah  read  no  book  but  one, 

Mah  Mammy  nevah  knowed  no  book  but  one, 

An'  dat  was  allus  on  de  cabin  she'f. 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

De  book  dat  Jesus  wrote — de  Book  o'  Books. 
Mah  Daddy  sleeps  beside  de  cabin  do', 
Mah  Mammy  lies  beneaf  de  violets, 
Po*  Sukey,  Sam  an*  Viney's  gone  away, 
De  banj  o's  crumblin*  quick  to  ash  an'  dust, 
An  Ah  is  lonely,  lonely  in  de  worl'. 

0  folks  dat  see  me  sottin'  on  de  stone, 
Please  drop  me  coin  an*  let  me  gwi'  away 
To  whar  my  cabin  gleams  beneaf  de  sun. 

THE  LONELY  PIPER. 

1. 

Tell  me,  lonely  piper  by  the  stream, 
With  your  pipe  of  wond'rous  melody, 
Why  alone  sit  you  and  pipe  all  day 
When  the  gold  lies  near,  and  gold  is  fame? 

2. 

1  am  piping  for  the  love  of  song, 
For  the  sunset  and  the  rise  of  moon; 
I  am  piping  for  the  summer  wind 
That  hath  come  afar  to  hear  my  strain. 

3. 

I  am  piping  for  a  little  child, 
Sleeping  on  a  couch  beneath  the  earth. 
Oh,  I  hope  some  day  he  hears  my  song, 
And  comes  leaping  forth  to  greet  the  dawn. 


5 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

TWO  SONGS. 
I. 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  PASSING. 

1. 

I  am  weary  of  this  loving  and  this  grieving, 
Lay  me  down  beneath  the  bending  willows, 
Strew  upon  me  petals  of  the  bleeding  roses, 
O  my  mourners. 

2. 

I  am  weary  of  this  loving  and  this  sighing, 
Bring  me  sweet  Aljulia  ere  I  meet  the  boatman 
By  the  shining  waters  of  the  mystic  river, 
O  my  mourners. 

3. 

Let  me  hear  the  breezes  singing  low  of  Heaven, 
Let  me  feel  the  cool  of  earth  upon  my  body, 
Let  me  hear  the  laughter  of  the  little  children, 
O  my  mourners. 

II. 

I  am  the  dusk, 
The  dreamborn  soul 

Of  yesterday; 
I  am  the  hope 
Of  true  Love's  birth, — 
The  Man  in  Chains. 

6 


VISIONS  OF  .THE  DUSK. 


I  am  the  star 
Whose  light  descends 

Beneath  the  sea; 
I  am  the  rose 
Whose  perfume  lives 

Beyond  the  years. 

8. 

I  am  thy  rod, 
I  am  thy  staff, 

O  brothers  pale; 
For  thee  I  live, 
For  thee  I  die, 

O  brothers  mine. 

REVERY. 
1. 

I  was  the  starlight, 
I  was  the  moonlight, 
I  was  the  sunset, 
Before  the  dawning 

Of  my  life; 
I  was  the  river 
Forever  winding 
To  purple  dreaming, 
I  was  the  glowing 
Of  youthful  Springtime, 


VISIONS  op  THE  DUSK. 

I  was  the  singing 
Of  golden  songbirds, — 
I  was  love. 

2. 

I  was  the  sunlight, 
I  was  the  twilight, 
I  was  the  humming 
Of  winged  creatures 

Ere  my  birth; 
I  was  the  blushing 
Of  lily  maiden, 
I  was  the  vision 
Of  youthful  striving, 
I  was  the  summer, 
I  was  the  autumn, 
I  was  the  All-time — 
I  was  love. 

DE  OL'  HOME. 
1. 

Ah's  longin'  fu'  de  ol'  home  far  away, 
Whar  Mammy  lies  beside  de  glidin'  crick; 
Ah's  longin'  fu'  de  Ian'  o'  summer  day, 
Whar  lillies  ob-de  valley's  mighty  thick; 
Ah's  longin'fu'  tuh  feel  de  bayou  bref 
Sofly  blowin'  on  dis  cheek  o'  mine; 
Ah's  longin'  fu'  de  honey  dat  ah  lef, 
Awaitin'  me  whar  grows  de  ol'  giant  pine. 

8 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

De  earf  am  weary,  an'  Ah's  sick  at  hea't, 
Ah  wish  dat  ah  could  be  away  down  home; 
Ah's  played  up  hyeah  a  rovin',  lovin'  paht. 
Been  eb'rywhere  de  face  ob  man  is  known, 
But  only  whar  in  pickanniny  day 
Ah  romped  an'  to'  an'  ate  de  sugahcane 
Can  Ah  be  happy  all  de  res'  de  day — 
Down  at  mah  ol',  ol'  home  in  Mandy  Lane! 

THE  CREED  OF  THE  SLAVE. 

I. 

Ah  lubs  de  worl'. — Kain't  he'p  it,  dat's  mah  way. 

Futh'mo'  Ah  lubs  de  night,  Ah  lubs  de  day, 

Ah  lubs  de  suff'rin'  crittuhs  dat  Gawd  made, 

De  li'l  'uns  playin'  'neaf  de  locus'  shade, 

Ah  lubs  de  shadduhs  by  de  gret  big  road, 

Ah  lubs  to  tote  wid  me  de  hebby  load 

Thoo'all  de  live  long  night  an'  thoo'  de  day. 

Ah  lubs  de  worl'. — Kain't  he'p  it,  dat's  mah  way. 

2. 

Go  crack  yo'  whups,  an'  break  dis  flesh  o'  mine, 
Ah  ain't  a-gwine  tuh,  leave  dis  love  behin'; 
Ah  wu'k  an'  bl^ed  fu'  dose  dat  hu't  me  mos', 
But  in  de  mawnin'  w'en  Ah  am  a  ghos' 
Ah  pray  de  Lawd  dat  you  kin  come  up  daih 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

An'  play  wid  me  erpon  de  golden  staih. 

Ah  lubs  you  all,  po'  suff'rin'  clay; — 

Ah  lubs  de  worl'. — Kain't  he'p  it,  dat's  mah  way. 


KIN  YOU  TELL  ME? 

1. 

Sukey  Jane,  you  sho'  is  gittin'  wise, 
Gwine  tuh  school,  an*  usin'  bofe  yo'  eyes, 
You  know  mo*  dan  Brudder  Gabrul  knows, 
You  kin  tell  de  whyness  ob  de  rose, 
You  kin  figger  out  de  gleamin'  stahs, 
An*  go  talkin'  'bout  yo'  flamin'  Mahs. 
But,  mah  honey,  listen! — listen  close! 
Kin  you  tell  me  whaih  de  ol'  moon  goes 
Wen  de  daytahm  thoo'  de  valley  glows? 

2. 

Sukey  Jane,  you  knows  mos'  evahthing, 
Jes'  why  robin  sings  his  bes'  in  Spring, 
You  kin  tell  de  why  ob  day  an'  night, 
An'  jes'  why  de  bu'ds  dey  mak'  daih  flight, 
You  kin  read  de  books  ob  long  ago, 
But,  mah  honey,  listen! — listen  close! 
Kin  you  tell  me  whaih  dey  keeps  de  rose 
Wen  de  wintuh  thoo'  de  valley  blows  ? 


10 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

THE  LOST  SUMMER. 

(SONG) 

1. 

Where  is  summer,  now  the  rose  is  dead? 
Where  is  summer,  now  the  birds  have  fled? 
I  have  wandered  at  the  dusk  of  day, 
But  have  never  found  the  flowers  of  May. 


Where  is  summer,  now  that  I  am  old? 
Where  is  summer,  now  my  love  is  cold? 
Years  have  dropt  their  frost  upon  my  brow, 
And  the  warmth  of  youth  is  fleeing  now. 

Dearest,  you  were  summertime  to  me, 
Youth  and  beauty  'neath  a  maple  tree, 
I  have,  mourned  for  you  when  Night  was  young, 
I  have  sighed  for  you  where  stars  are  hung, 
But  you  left  my  heart  in  days  gone  by 
But  you  let  my  hope  of  true  love  die. 
Lovely  hour  of  bloom,  I  long  for  thee! 
Dear,  lost  summertime,  return  to  me! 


11 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


HYMN. 

1. 

Great  God  of  a  million  years, 
Bulwark  of  our  ancient  fears, 

Lead  us  on; 

Sorrows  come  and  sorrows  go, 
But  Thy  comfort  nations  know; 
Princes,  lords,  and  captains  fall, 
But  the  lowly  hear  thy  call; 

Lead  us  on. 

2. 

'Cross  the  tide  the  storms  may 
Fires  of  evil  brightly  glow, 

Lead  us  on; 

When  around  us  thrives  the  night 
Burn  anew,  O  Starry  Light, 
Let  the  moaning  sea-winds  die 
Ere  the  angel  Love  pass  by; 

Lead  us  on. 

3. 

Nations  marching  to  the  Cross, 
On  their  hearts  the  Sign  emboss, 

Lead  us  on ; 

By  Thy  hand  the  fallen  rise 
To  the  glory  of  the  skies  , 

12 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

By  Thy  hand  a  thousand  years 
Thou  shalt  dry  our  earthly  tears; 
Lead  us  on. 

THE  SOUL  OF  BOSTON. 

My  cobblestones  are  red  with  England's  blood, 

My  parks  are  monuments  of  other  days, 

My  battle  cry  the  cry  that  right  is  might, 

Humanity  my  God  and  mother  love. 

I  blush  when  Justice  cowers  i  nthe  dust, 

When  once  again  we  lead  to  Calvary 

The  Nazarene  enwrapt  in  scarlet  cloak. 

I  am  the  sister  of  the  man  oppressed, 

The  sword  that  flashed  at  primal  Eden's  gate, — 

"No  man  may  enter  save  the  pure  in  heart". 

I  sit  at  Plato's  feet,  and  glean  the  gold 

That  drifts  from  such  a  rich  eternal  mind; 

Good  England's  culture  is  my  fading  past, 

Columbia  the  glory  of  my  dreams. 

O  sisters  mine,  go  sound  your  drums  of  gold, 

Go  build  your  monuments  to  Greed  and  Pelf, 

For  I  would  rather  cherish  martyrs'  blood 

Than  all  the  wealth  enshrined  in  Amsterdam, 

And  I  would  rather  boast  the  motherhood 

Of  Attucks  and  of  Shaw  than  rule  the  world. 

O  God  of  Wirthrop,  here  I  spread  Thy  couch, 

For  I  have  kept  Thy  faith  despite  the  age. 


18 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

SINGING  HALLELUJIA. 
(A  NEGRO  SPIRITUAL) 

1. 

I  went  down  to  Jordan, 

Singing,  "Hallelujia!", 
I  went  down  to  Jordan 

In  the  nighttime; 
God  of  mine  above  me, 
God  of  mine  beneath  me, 
And  the  white  robed  angels 

Singing,  "Hallelujia!" 

2. 
I  looked  up  to  Heaven, 

Singing,  "Hallelujia", 
I  looked  up  to  Heaven 

In  the  nighttime; 
God  poured  down  His  mercy, 
Christ  poured  down  His  loving, 
And  the  choir  of  angels 

Sang  me,  "Hallelujia!" 

8. 
Threescore  stood  in  Heaven, 

Singing,  "Hallelujia", 
Threescore  stood  in  Heaven 

In  the  nighttime; 

14 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

David  with  his  captains, 
Jesus  with  His  fishers, 
And  the  white  robed  angels 

Singing,  "Hallelujia!" 

4. 
Take  me  swift  to  Heaven, 

Singing,  "Hallelujia !" 
Take  me  swift  to  Heaven 

In  the  nighttime; 
Seat  me  'mid  the  lillies, 
Crown  me  with  the  roses, 
And  let  whiterobed  angels 

Sing  me,  "Hallelujia." 

THE  MAGIC  MASTER. 

I  am  the  Magic  Master, 
The  mighty  twilight  weaver; 
Before  my  tent  the  vision 
In  youthful  splendour  dances, 
From  mountains  tinged  with  jasper 
Bring  I  the  sunlight  glowing, 
From  forest  tinged  with  dusk  light 
Bring  I  the  moonlight  lantern. 
My  magic  is  my  dreaming, 
My  dreaming  is  my  loving; 
I  knc  $  the  warm  Sahara, 
I  know  the  cool  Alaska, 

15 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

I  know  the  rose  hued  peri 
Before  my  couch  in  Heaven; 
I  climb  the  golden  stairways 
Within  my  ears  the  singing 
Of  angels  crowned  with  haloes, 
Before  my  eyes  the  laurel 
Ye  give  the  wizard  dying. 
At  Camelot  with  Merlin, 
With  Israfel  in  Heaven, 
Among  the  dusky  minstrels 
In  fields  of  waving  cotton 
Learned  I  the  gift  of  magic; 
And  now  that  day  is  dying 
I  watch  my  star  descending 
Into  the  deathless  river, 
For  now  I  know  that  magic 
Will  live  beyond  the  starlight. 

TO  MY  FATHER. 

1. 

Good  Father  o'  the  Dusk,  my  love  for  thee 

Is  boundless  as  the  soul's  eternal  sea; 

Thou  wrought  for  me  when  I  was  weak  and  young, 

And  guarded  me  from  life's  tempestuous  wrong. 

2. 

Thou  art  the  lamp  that  safely  pilots  me 
Beyond  the  crags  and  shoals  of  life's  rough  sea ; 

16 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

I  cannot  falter  when  thou  bidst  me  go 
Where  moonlit  waters  to  the  ocean  flow. 

8. 

Let  others  boast  of  gold  and  mansions  grand, 
No  father  lives  throughout  this  Western  land 
So  good,  so  true,  so  brave  of  heart  as  thee, 
My  mariner  across  the  starlit  sea. 

HOWDY    DO. 

1. 
Oh,  de  runnin'  crick  he  say  to  me, 

"Howdy  do*  mah  honey,  howdy  do; 
An'  de  bu'ds  dey  sing  f  'urn  top  de  tree, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do." 
Oh,  de  cunnin'  rabbit  grin  an*  say, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do," 
But  de*  possum  hidin'  'fraid  to  say, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do." 

2. 
Oh,  Miss  Sally  say  to  me  las'  night. 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do," 
An,  Ah  say  to  huh,  mah  eyes  so  bright, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do." 
Oh,  de  win's  a  croonin'  thoo  de  trees, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do," 
An'  f'um  hives  de  buzzin'  ob  de  bees, 

"Howdy  do^mah  honey,  howdy  do." 

17 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

3. 

Oh,  de  owl's  a  hootin'  all  night  long 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do/' 
An'  de  mockin'  bu'd  he  sings  de  song 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do." 
F'um  behin'  de  clouds  de  moon  she  say, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do," 
An'  de  Night  she  whispuh  to  de  Day, 

"Howdy  do,  mah  honey,  howdy  do." 

LULLABY. 

1. 

Bye  lo,  mah  li'l  lam', 
In  de  locus'  swingin'; 
Bye  lo,  mah  li'l  lam', 
Mammy  by  you  singin', 
Shadders  am  a-creepin', 
F'um  de  clouds  a-peepin', 
Wants  tuh  see  li'l  lady, 
Wants  tuh  see  brown  baby 
In  de  locus'  tree. 

2. 

Bye  lo,  mah  li'l  lam', 
Cool  o'  night's  a-comin'; 
Bye  lo,  mah  li'l  lam', 
Katy-did's  a-hummin'; 
All  de  worl'  am  sleeping 

18 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Gawd  yo'  soul  am  keeping 
Angels  o'er  you  beaming 
Bringing  you  sweet  dreamin', 
In  de  locus'  tree. 

THE  SOLDIERS  OF  THE  DUSK. 
I. 

Black  men  holding  up  the  earth, 

Atlas  burdened  they  descend 

Deep  into  the  vale  of  Hell; 

And  with  valor  long  defend 

Fairer  brothers  from  the  wounds 

That  the  dogs  of  war  inflict, 
And  with  patriotic  souls 
Die  in  Europe's  last  conflict. 

II. 

Paris  shall  not  fall  so  long 

As  there  breathes  a  man  of  dusk, 

London  shall  be  saved  an  age 

By  the  fighters  of  the  dusk; 

Zulu,  robbed  of  land  and  home, 

For  the  robber  bares  his  heart, 
Kaffir,  giving  Europe  gems, 
Europe  pierces  with  a  dart. 
III. 

They  are  pagan,  men  of  blood, 

They  have  not  a  golden  rule, 

Cannibals  ancj.  fetish  men 

With  their  laws  intensely  cruel; 

19 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

But  the  God  of  Calvary 
Will  in  years  unborn  be  just 
To  the  men  who  died  for  men, 
Victims  of  the  war  god's  lust. 

'LONG  DE  COOL  O'  NIGHT. 

1. 

'Long  de  cool  o'  night  w'en  day  am  daid, 
An'  de  wu'k  am  done,  mah  pipe  Ah  smokes 
On  de  cabin  stoop  wid  Mandy  nigh, 
Laffin'  fit  tuh  kill  at  all  mah  jokes; 
Pickanninies  tumblin'  in  de  san', 
Kickin'  up  daih  heels  wid  ka'less  joy, 
Totin'  back  tuh  me  de  happy  days 
W'en  lak  dem  Ah  was  a  ba'hfoot  boy. 

2. 

Let  de  'skeeters  hum  'way  an'  de  owl 
Go  a-tootin'  in  de  gread,  big  tree; 
Let  de  moon  go  dippin'  in  de  sky, 
Whituh  dan  de  spray  f 'um  out  de  sea ; 
Ah  is  gwine  tuh  sit  upon  de  stoop 
Wid  mah  Mandy  in  de  bright  moonlight 
Holdin'  han's  an'  co'tin'  huh  ag'in, 
Kase  its  lovin'  tahm  an'  cool  o'  night. 


20 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 


THE  DYING  ROSE. 

1. 

The  rose  lay  dying  in  the  summer  heat 

And  longed  to  save  her  life  so  fair  and  brief. 

A  dryad,  bathing  in  the  noonday  sun, 

Spied  her  and  dropped  a  tear  to  show  her  grief. 

The  panting  bloom  drank  deep  the  sweetening  drop — 

And  lived  an  hour  to  deck  a  singer's  wreath. 


A  FRAGMENT. 

1. 

One  sunset  when  the  skies  were  deepest  red, 
As  if  they  blushed  for  all  the  human  sins, 
I  saw  her  gather  daffodils,  and  sighed, 
For  she  was  sweeter  far  than  those  poor  flowers 
And  all  the  flowers  that  grace  this  universe, 
And  in  my  dream  I  saw  a  crown  descend 
From  out  the  firmament  and  drop  to  earth. 
It  fell  beside  a  brook  whose  gleaming  drops 
Shone  like  the  diamonds  in  the  sable  night, 
And  I,  the  humblest  in  the  realm  of  men, 
Stooped  low  and  placed  it  on  her  bonny  head. 


21 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 


DE  APRUL  SONG. 

1. 

Lets  go  out  a  la'kin',  jes'  to-day, 

Livin's  tiahsome,  'doubt  dey  let  you  play; 

Fishin's  good,  an*  plenty  bait's  erroun', 

Now  dat  springtime's  sproutin'  f'om  de  groun'; 

Possum  want  a  bullet  in  his  hide, 

Rabbit  say  he  wish  you'd  pierce  his  side; 

Dis  am  jus'  de  time  fu'  man  to  shu'k, 

Wen  de  Aprul  sunshine  spiles  yo'  wuk. 


Sweet  magnoly  bloomin'  on  de  trees, 
Apple  blossom  thick  wid  honey  bees, 
Lillies  ob  de  valley  noddin'  way 
Whisp'rin',  "Dis  am  sho'  a  lubby  day !" 
Crissy  green  a  sproutin'  by  de  do', 
Lilacs  eb'rywhaih  am'  boun'  to  grow; 
Dis  am  jes'  de  time  fu'  man  to  shu'k 
Wen  de  Aprul  goodness  spiles  yo'  wu'k. 

*. 

Mockin'  bu'd  a-singin'  on  de  hill, 
Sunshine  drappin'  down  into  de  rill, 
Cotton  sprout  a  peepin'  f'om  de  earf, 
Raccoons  runnin*  'roun'  chuck  full  o*  mirf, 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

Co'npone  cookin'  on  de  cabin  harf, 
Pickanninnes  playin*  on  de  wharf; 
Dis  am  jes'  de  time  fu'  man  to  shu'k 
Wen  de  Aprul  gladness  spiles  yo'  wu'k. 

SLAVE  DEATH  SONG. 

1. 

Oh,  my  chariot  is  swinging, 

Jesus,  bring  it  near, 
Soft  I  hear  the  harp  a-ringing, 

Jesus,  bring  it  near, 
All  my  troubles  are  a-dying, 
Low  within  the  grave  a-lying, 
Angels  o'er  my  bones  a-bending, 
Peace  and  rest  to  me  descending; 

Jesus,  bring  it  near, 

2. 

Throne  of  God  is  shining  brightly, 

Jesus,  bring  it  near, 
Angels  stepping  round  it  sprightly, 

Jesus,  take  me  home. 
Curved  coach  with  jasper  cover 
Swinging  for  the  dusky  lover; 
White  robed  choir  is  sweetly  singing, 
Glory  muoic  earthward  bringing, 

Jesus,  take  me  home. 

23 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

3. 

Scythe  of  Heaven  gently  reaping, 

Jesus,  bring  it  near, 
Love  eternal  o'er  me  creeping, 

Jesus,  bring  it  near; 
Day  within  the  West  is  dying, 
O'er  me  summer  breeze  is  sighing, 

To  my  mother's  breast  returning, 
For  me  long  she  has  been  yearning; 

Jesus,  take  me  home. 

DE    CALL. 

1. 

Ah's  moughty  lonely  'thout  you'  honey  chile, 
Be'n  down  to  Bubbly's  Crick,  an'  mo'ned  awhile, 
Walked  thoo  de  fiel'  ob  co'n,  an'  drapped  a  teah; 
An'  tol'  de  jaybu'ds  dat  Ah  wished  you  heah; 
De  rabbit  run  no  mo',  but  look  fo'  you, 
De  owl  he  cry  all  night,  "Tu-whoo !     Tu-whoo ! 
Come  bac',  come  bac',  we  wants  you  honey  chile!" 

2. 

De  bu'ds  dey  chu'p  no  mo'  daih  songs  ob  cheah, 
Dey  seem  tuh  say  dey  wish  dat  you  whar  neah, 
De  chillun  hang  hang  daih  haids,  an'  wonduh  why 
No  mo'  you  pass  de  ol'  plantation  by, 
De  banjo's  silent  now,  de  fiddle  still, 

24 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

No  mo*  de  dawgs  go  huntin*  o'  de  hill: 

Come  bac',  come  bac',  we  wants  you  honey  chile ! 

3. 

All  night  mah  pillo's  wet  wid  teahs  Ah  drap, 

Yo'  eu'ly  lock  Ah  fondle  in  mah  lap, 

Ah's  longin'  moughty  ha'd  fu'  days  gone  by 

Wen  mammy  seed  de  lovelight  in  yo'  eye; 

De  day  it  seem  jes'  lak  a  sack  ob  co'n, 

De  night's  de  lonlies'  since  Ah  was  bo'n; 

Come  bac',  come  bac',  we  wants  you  honey  chile! 

THE  PASSING  INDIAN. 
1. 

By  the  shore  of  lonely  Long  Ago, 

By  the  waters  of  Forgetfulness, 

Wrapped  in  woven  blanket  stained  with  blood 

Stand  I  gazing  at  the  dying  tribes; 

In  my  hand  the  ancient  tomahawk, 

In  my  eye  a  fire  that  never  dies, 

But  soars  high  to  Gitchie  Manitou 

As  the  eagle  flies  at  eventide. 

O  thou  race  of  squaws,  be  kind  to  me; 

Let  me  smoke  with  thee  the  calumet, 

Let  me  hunt  the  bison  and  the  deer, 

Let  me  breathe  the  air  of  libery 

In  the  land  the  \tfiite  man's  blossom  choked, 

Ere  the  purple  sunset  calls  me  home. 

25 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

I  am  dying  as  the  wounded  deer, 
I  who  once  was  master  of  these  shores ; 
Might  and  brawn  I  held  my  majesty, 
Infinite  I  deemed  this  strength  of  mine, 
Morning  star  and  sunset  glow  my  God; 
Passion  ruled  within  this  breast  of  mine, 
And  before  me  swept  my  better  self. 
Listen,  O  thou  mighty  race  of  squaws, 
Ere  the  purple  sunset  calls  me  home; 
Thou  may  pass  away  as  I  have  passed — 
Gitchie  Manitou  alone  is  Chief, 
Sachem  of  the  mighty  Winds  is  He, 
And  He  lives  till  dry  the  stream  of  Time. 
Be  not  vain,  but  hear  His  gentle  voice, 
O  my  worthy  brothers  pale  of  face, 
Ere  the  purple  sunset  calls  thee  home. 


FIDDLAH  IKE. 

1. 

Oh'  Fiddlah  Ike's  a-playin'  to  de  moon 

Erbout  his  wife  dat  died  away  las'  June. 

He  play  de  saddes'  tune  in  all  de  worl* 

"Oh,  whaih's  mah  honey?     Whaih's  mah  Pearl?'1 

An'  down  his  cheek  he  drap  a  shiny  teah, 

Fu'  Liza  was  his  honey  an'  his  deah. 

26 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

De  hull  plantation  gathuh  roun'  his  do', 
An'  w'en  he  play  daih  haids  go  drappin'  low, 
De  houn'  dawg  quit  his  howlin'  all  de  night, 
De  lonely  moon  put  on  huh  bright es'  light, 
Fu'  all  de  worl'  would  lak  to  heah  de  chune 
Dat  Fiddlah  Ike's  been  playin'  thoo  de  June. 

3. 

Ol'  Marstuh's  stop  his  drinkin'  spahklin'  wine 
An'  come  a-pushin'  bac'  good  Mammy's  vine, 
"Its  Fiddlah  Ike!"  he  says,  "Go  play  yo'  bes', 
Yo'  Lizas  up  above  in  Glohry's  dress, 
She's  lookin'  down,  and  heahs  yo'  fiddle  song, 
A  sobbin'  way  thoo  out  de  ebenin'  long." 

4. 

Dey  say  de  angels  come  thoo  sorrer's  gate, 
Dat  music's  sweetes'  when  you's  lost  yo'  mate, 
Dey  say  de  golden  th'one  was  nevah  won 
By  livin'  all  de  time  beneaf  de  sun; 
An'  dat's  de  reason  Ike  kin  move  de  worl' 
A  playin',  "Whaih's  mah  honey?     Whaih's  mah  Pearl?" 

AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  MANDY. 

1. 

Mandy's  sleepin'  wid  de  angels  now — 
Mandy  dat  was  Sweetes'  ob  dem  all — 
An'  we  laid  huh  side  de  hic'ry  tree 

27 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

'Till  de  day  she  heah  huh  Mastah's  call: 
Ah  kin  feel  huh  ahms  erroun'  mah  nee', 
Ah  kin  feel  de  puffume  ob  huh  bref ; 
An*  de  teahs  go  tumblin'  down  mah  cheeks, 
Kase  de  folkses  call  huh  sleepin'  def . 

2. 

Did  you  evah  see  mah  Mandy,  chile? 
Lawd!     but  she  was  diffunt  fum  de  res', 
Eyes  dat's  blackuh  dan  de  blackes'  night, 
Teef  dat's  whituh  dan  a  chicken's  bres' ; 
You  should  felt  dose  han's,  wahm  an'  sof, 
You  should  tas'e  dem  lips  dat  tas'e  lak  mo', 
Den  you'd  know  fu'  sho'  de  reason  why 
Ah  am  allus  linger  in'  by  huh  do'. 

3. 

Buhds  may  sing  daih  songs,  an'  sing  'em  well, 
Brook  go  laffin'  lak  oF  sorrer's  daid, 
Rabbit  grin,  an'  possum  hoi'  his  sides, 
An'  de  owl  go  shake  his  wise  ol'  haid; 
But  daih's  nuffin'  will  be  chee'ful  now, 
All  de  earf  am  but  a  lonely  Ian', 
While  mah  Mandy's  in  de  Beulahlan' 
Singin'  'Glory'  wid  de  angel  ban'. 

NEGRO  SPIRITUALS. 

(These  songs  we  offer,  not  as  genuine  Negro  spiritu 
als,  but  as  imitations.     We  attempt  to     preserve     the 

28 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

rhythm  and  the  spirit  of  the  slaves,  and  to  give  a  literary 
form  and  interpretation  to  their  poetic  endeavour. 
Here  and  there  we  have  caught  a  phrase  the  unlettered 
minstrels  used;  here  and  there  we  have  borrowed  of 
that  exquisite  Oriental  imagery  the  Africans  brought  with 
them. 

JUBAL'S  FREE. 
1. 

Sound  the  trumpet,  honey, 

Jubal's  free, 
Sound  the  ram  horn,  honey, 

Jubal's  free; 
Devil  goes  a-quaking, 
Mighty  Hell  is  shaking, 
All  the  stars  are  tumbling, 
Heaven's  thunder  rumbling, 

Jubal's  free. 

2. 
Dance  the  Gospel,  honey, 

Jubal's  free, 
Set  your  feet  a-s winging 

Jubal's  free; 

Night  has  changed  to  morning, 
In  her  breast  the  warning 
Of  the  God  of  sorrow, 
"Xnev  must  go  to-morrow", 
t  Jubal's  free. 

29 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

3. 

Ring  the  church  bells,  honey, 

Jubal's  free; 
Set  the  chimes  a-pealing, 

Jubal's  free; 
God  above  is  shouting, 
Devil  goes  a-pouting, 
Earth  and  sky  is  meeting, 
Freedom  is  their  greeting, 

Jubal's  free. 

4. 
Shake  the  hand,  my  brother. 

Jubal's  free, 
Sing  your  loudest,  brother, 

Jubal's  free; 

Toss  your  head  to  Heaven, 
Living's  like  the  leaven, 
Earth  is  rich  with  sunlight, 
Night  is  rich  with  moonlight, 

Jubal's  free. 

SONG  OF  THE  WHIRLWIND. 
1. 

Oh,  my  God  is  in  the  whirlwind, 

I  am  walking  in  the  valley; 
Lift  me  up,  O  Shining  Father, 
To  the  glory  of  the  heavens, 
I  have  seen  a  thousand  troubles 

30 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

On  the  journey  men  call  living, 
I  have  drunk  a  thousand  goblets 
From  misfortune's  bitter  winepress, 
But  to  Thee  I  cling  forever, 
God  of  Jacob,  God  of  Rachel. 

2. 
Oh,  my  soul  is  in  the  whirlwind, 

I  am  dying  in  the  valley, 
Oh,  my  soul  is  in  the  whirlwind 
And  my  bones  are  in  the  valley; 
At  her  spinning  wheel  is  Mary 
Spinning  raiment  of  the  lillies, 
On  her  knees  is  Martha  honey 
Shining  bright  the  golden  pavement, 
All  the  ninety  nine  is  waiting 
For  my  coming,  for  my  coming. 

MY  GOD  IN  HEAVEN  SAID  TO  ME. 

1. 

My  God  in  Heaven  said  to  me, 
"Your  mansion's  ready  in  the  sky, 
Come  home,  my  weary  wanderer, 
And  eat  with  Me  the  bread  of  life, 
For  I  have  slain  the  fatted  calf, 
For  I  have  filled  the  honey  bowl 
And  thou  shalt  always  dwell  with  me. 
Come  home,  my  -^eary  wanderer," 
My  God  in  Heaven  said  to  me. 

31 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

And  now  I  board  the  Gospel  train, 
For  I  am  going  home  to-night 
To  meet  my  God  on  Jordan's  coast. 
My  burdens  to  the  wind  I  toss, 
To-morrow  freedom  shall  be  mine; — 
A  golden  crown  with  burning  stars, 
And  harp  of  David  in  my  hand 
That  I  may  chant  the  Gospel  tunes. 

3. 

On  God's  plantation  I  shall  dwell, 
The  overseer  of  happiness, 
And  dance  with  Israel  the  dance 
Of  holiness  and  righteousness, 
A  thousand  years  with  God  to  dwell 
Is  like  a  holiday  below; 
And  Oh,  my  heart  was  glad  to  hear 
My  God  in  Heaven  say  to  me, 
"Your  mansion's  ready  in  the  sky." 


THE  HYPOCRITE  DEVIL. 

1. 

The  Devil  is  a  mighty  hypocrite, 
He  steals  away  your  heart,  he  steals  your  soul, 
He  rides  you  straight  to  Hell  with  honey  words, 
Oh,  yes !     That  Devil's  mighty  hypocrite. 

32 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 


Last  night  he  said  to  me,  "My  daughter,  dance! 
Go  shuffle  on  the  old  barn  floor  your  feet, 
Nobody  looking  but  the  moon  and  stars. 
Go  shuffle  on  the  old  barn  floor  your  feet." 

3. 

I  looked  me  straight  to  East  and  straight  to  West, 
And  from  my  trunk  I  took  my  yellow  dress, 
That  I  might  dance  once  more  the  sinner's  dance 
Before  my  bones  grew  old  and  cold  and  stiff. 

4. 

But  ere  I  reached  the  barnyard  gate  I  saw 
My  God  of  Jacob  shining  in  the  sky 
"Go  back,  my  daughter,  to  your  pots  and  pans ! 
Dance  not  the  sinner's  dance  lest  ye  should  die/' 

5. 

He  dipped  my  soul  in  water  pure  with  love, 
And  led  me  homeward  by  the  magic  star, 
"Beware!"  He  said.    "The  Devil's  conjure  man; 
A  mighty  conjure  man  and  hypocrite." 

6. 

O  children  o  fthe  King,  give  heed  to  me 
Go  not  with  Beezlebub  and  all  his  ways, 
Stay  home  and  work  your  patch  before  you  die, 
The  Devil's  hypocrite  and  conjure  man. 


33 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


LOVE    ME. 

1. 

Love  me,  love  me  evermore, 

Oh,  my  honey !     Oh,  my  honey ! 
Love  me  till  the  Judgment  Day, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey ! 
When  the  angel  sounds  the  call 
Hold  my  hand  and  hold  it  long 
I  will  guide  thee  o'er  the  tide 
To  the  Throne  of  God  Himself, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey ! 

2. 
Love  me,  love  me  evermore, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey ! 
Love  me  through  the  ages  long, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey ! 
Kiss  my  brow  when  life  is  cold 
And  a-down  the  stream  I  float, 
Lift  me  from  the  ways  of  earth 
To  the  warmth  of  God  Himself, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey ! 

3. 
Love  me,  love  me  evermore, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey ! 
Love  me  till  the  stream  runs  dry, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  hone ! 

34 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Thrice  a  thousand  times  to  die 
Would  be  like  a  day  with  God 
If  that  dying  would  bring  thee 
To  my  heart  a  single  hour, 

Oh,  my  honey !    Oh,  my  honey  ! 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON. 

1. 

Snow  is  on  the  earth, 
Sunshine  in  the  heaven, 
Snow  is  on  the  earth 
And  my  soul  a-stumbling, 
Night  is  calling  soft, 
"Bring  me  home  the  weary", 
God  commands  the  host, 
"Kill  the  fatted  heifer, 

For  my  son  is  coming  home." 

2. 

Peter  holds  the  key, 
David's  voice  is  golden, 
Simeon  is  praying; 
In  my  chariot 
I  am  drawing  nigher 
To  the  Mercy  Seat 
Of  the  seining  Father 
In  the  Land  of  Golden  Hours. 

35 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

3. 

Rachel  cooks  the  Lamb, 
Mary  weaves  me  raiment, 
Moses  writes  my  name, 
Joshua  is  shouting, 
All  the  host  rejoice 
For  my  late  returning; 
Jesus  takes  my  hand, 
Calling  me  his  brother 
From  the  Land  of  Golden  pain. 

4. 

Dark  my  home  on  earth, 
Bright  the  Glory  cabin, 
Dark  my  home  on  earth, 
Bright  the  streets  of  Heaven, 
Never  whip  nor  lash, 
Never  bread  and  water, 
Parted  on  the  cruel  block 
Waits  the  sainted  mother 
For  the  coming  of  her  son. 

5. 

Speed  thy  lissome  oar, 
Oh,  my  valiant  boatman, 
Sp&ed  o'er  Jordan's  stream, 
To  the  Land  of  Shining  Glory. 


86 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


THE  SONG  OF  BEULAHLAND. 

1. 
Oh,  I  know  a  river  where  your  troubles  flow, 

Down  by  Beulahland; 
There  the  children  of  the  King  shall  meet  their  Lord, 

Down  by  Beulahland; 

Oh,  I  know  the  weapon  that  those  children  wield, 
'Tis  the  Cross  of  Jesus  pierced  on  Calvary, 
And  my  weary  soul  is  clinging  to  the  beams 

Down  by  Beulahland. 
2. 
Let  me  not  go  there  by  fiddle  tune  or  harp, 

Down  by  Beulahland, 
Play  no  banjo  on  my  journey  to  the  King, 

Down  by  Beulahland, 

Let  me  fight  my  battles  in  the  way  I  choose 
I  alone  must  win  the  crown  of  Righteousness, 
Let  me  be  a  soldier  with  my  armor  on, 

Down  by  Beulahland. 

DE    BAN'. 

Don't  you  heah  de  ban',  Miss  Mandy  Lee? 
Don't  you  see  de  leadah  wave  to  me? 
How  dose  da'kies  ma^ch  if  to  wo', 
Fo'teen  strong,  all  bright  wid  music's  glow; 

37 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Daih  is  Eph  un  Jackson,  drummah  boy, 

Wid  dose  sticks  he's  beatin'  scrumptious  joy, 

Daih  is  Trombone  Pete  in  suit  o'  raid, 

Holdin'  high  wid  pride  his  wooly  haid, 

(Hum !  Ti !  Turn !  Turn !  Boom !  Ti-Boom !  Boom !  Boom ! 

Git  away  an*  gib  dose  anguls  room !) 

Lawdy !  but  dat  music*  stirs  mah  soul, 
Mak'  me  think  Ah  see  de  streets  ob  gol'; 
Now  Ah  feel  a-ticklin'  in  mah  feet 
Dat  will  set  me  dancin'  on  de  street; 
Glohry!  Hallelujia!  Heish  yo'  mouf ! 
Dat  ban*  sholy  owns  de  livin'  Souf. 
Hooray !  Keep  it  up,  ol'  Trombone  Pete, 
You  hab  won  mah  hea't  an*  won  mah  feet. 


PLANTATION  SERMON. 

1. 
Doan'  you  hyeah  me  preachin', 

Chillun  in  de  valley? 
Doan'  you  hyeah  me  'spoundin', 

Chillun  in  de  valley? 
Freedom  sh's  a  comin' 
In  de  Savior's  keeridge, 
Ah  kin  hyeah  it  shoutin' 
F'um  de  mouf  ob  cannons; 
Oh,  de  robes  am  whituh 

38 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Dan  de  light  ob  mawnin' 
Oh,  de  songs  am  sweetuh 
Dan  de  banjo's  tummin', 
Mighty  am  de  gethrin* 
Ob  de  wounded  chillun, 
Mighty  am  de  buhstin' 
F'um  de  th'oats  ob  singuhs. 
Git  yo'  clo's  a-ready, 
Cleah  yo'  cotton  patches, 
Set  yo'  feet  a-dancing' 
In  de  Gospel  mannah, 
Ah  kin  hyeah  de  blowin' 
Ob  de  golden  trumpets. 
Freedom's  hitched  huh  hosses 
An'  she's  drawin'  nighuh. 
Bury  all  yo'  troubles, 
Bury  all  yo'  grievin's, 
God  hab  hyeahed  yo'  prayin' — 
Freedom's  in  de  whirlwind, 
An'  we's  in  de  valley. 

THE  PHANTOM  RABBIT. 

1. 

Look,  my  weary  brother,  ere  you  die; 
Night  is  here,  and  phantom  nigh; 
Soul  of  rabbit  with  the  magic  breath, 
Soul  of  Life  and  foe  o^  living  Death. 
Ere  we  die,  my  brother,  ere  we  die. 

39 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

Look,  my  weary  sister,  ere  we  die ; 
O'er  the  hills  the  phantom  shadows  lie ; 
Rabibt  ghostly  soothes  your  aching  fears, 
Rabbit  ghostly  dries  your  endless  tears, 
Ere  we  die,  my  sister,  ere  we  die. 

TO  JEANNE  ROBERT  FOSTER. 

Thy  faith  in  me  is  comfort,  friend  unseen; 
Tho'  I  am  but  a  minstrel  of  the  dusk, 
Before  my  path  thou  strewest  cloth  of  rose 
That  I  may  sing  awhile  my  humble  song. 

S.  COLERIDGE  TAYLOR. 

1. 

Mute  thy  strings,  O  Israfel: 
Quenched  thy  fire,  and  shrouded  low 
Men  who  marvelled  at  the  spell 
And  the  weird  but  dream  borne  glow 
Of  thy  master  song. 

2. 

Israfel,  no  singers  rise 
Who  can  lift  thy  laurel  crown, 
Thou  alone  to  glory  rise — 
Star  of  England's  fair  renown 
And  the  dusk  man's  hope. 

40 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

8. 

When  the  Master  came  thou  heard 
Music  woven  of  the  night, 
And,  as  soars  a  fleet  winged  bird, 
Thou  in  melody  made  flight 
To  the  Throne  of  God. 


Will  the  meadows  bloom  again? 
Will  the  lark  in  passion  song 
Lead  us  to  his  leafy  den? 
Will  the  day  remain  as  long? 
Israfel  has  gone. 

5. 

Live  to  sing  as  he  has  sung, 
Live  to  know  the  heart  of  God, 
Live  to  speak  an  angel  tongue 
And  to  kiss  the  moistened  sod 
O'er  our  Israfel. 


VISIONS  op  THE  DUSK. 


ETHIOPIA. 

O  minstrel  lyre  of  ancient  Ethiop, 
Whose  flaming  song  awoke  the  Orient, 

0  long  forgotten  harp,  whose  mouldering  strings 
Hath  once  enthralled  the  hearts  of  warriors, 

1  pray  thee  let  my  burning  fingers  press 
Thee  once  again  that  I  may  sing  my  song 

Ere  from  my  veins  the  warmth  of  life  hath  flown. 
O  minstrel  lyre,  no  longer  do  the  kings 
On  couch  of  leopard  skins  await  thy  hour; 
The  Gods  are  dead,  our  ancient  glory  dust, 
Our  altars  broken,  and  our  people  gone, — 
Gone  whence  men  quaff  the  wine  of  melting  pot. 
O,  Libya,  for  thee  the  Prophet  longs, 
O  Egypt,  born  of  Sphinx  and  shadow  forms, 

0  Ethiop,  the  flame  of  desert  sands, 

Thy  hour!    Thy  hour!    Oh,  when  shall  come  thy  hour? 

1  touch  the  ancient  lyre,  and  burning  sing 
The  song  of  Ethiopia  the  Queen, 

The  song  of  her  who  sits  among  the  gates, 
Her  eye  upon  the  dawn  of  liberty  and  hope. 

I. 

The  groves  of  Libya  with  perfume  droop, 
The  dancing  maidens,  born  of  dusk  and  dew, 
Before  the  flame  their  wierdest  chants  have  raised, 
The  moon  that  lives  for  love  and  love  alone 

42 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

From  vale  within  the  sky  beholds  the  earth; 

On  throne  of  cedar,  ophyr,  and  of  gold 

The  jewelled  monarch  sits,  a  man  of  dusk, 

Too  opulent  of  war  and  cruelty, 

Too  drunk  with  power,  too  weak  for  noble  deeds, 

His  star  the  strength  that  lives  in  mighty  arms, 

That  sweeps  before  it  all  the  tribes  of  earth 

He  is  the  morning  of  the  human  race, 

The  first  sweet  cup  of  wine  existence  drinks, 

And  on  the  altar  luxury  he  falls, 

A  broken  goblet  in  the  hands  of  Time. 

(Of  such  has  been  the  human  chronicle, 

The  Caesars,  Ptolemies,  Alexanders  fall, 

Great  Pompey  is  the  dust  of  long  ago, 

And  star  swept  Bonaparte  hath  met  his  doom.) 

Behind  a  Northern  Chariot  the  king 

With  chains  of  gold  around  his  ebon  neck 

Must  grace  the  triumph  of  his  enemy, 

His  people  must  in  slavery  bend  low, — 

The  moon  of  love  hath  died  within  the  East. 

A  stranger  walks  within  the  grove  enow; 

But  in  the  years  to  come  that  stranger  falls 

Before  another. — So  the  will  of  God 

Removes  the  nations,  races,  and  the  tribes, 

Lest  man  should  be  the  peer  of  God  Himself. 

II. 

I  hear  the  martial  beat  of  long  ago, 

The  clash  of  steel,  tn*e  tread  of  Persian  hordes. 

43 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

O  Ethiop,  how  desolate  thy  shores ! 

How  deep  into  oblivion  thy  star ! 

Thy  children's  children  shall  forget  thy  name, 

Forget  thy  altars,  and  thy  sacred  fires, 

F  or  from  the  parching  sands  of  Araby, 

Mohammed  rides  with  death  or  Allah's  law. 

The  wandering  tribes  of  Abyssinia, — 

From  whence  the  Sheban  queen  her  journey  made,- 

Alone  survive  the  glory  of  the  past, 

But  not  the  mandates  of  our  ancient  gods. 

The  haughty  race  that  built  the  pyramids, 

That  chained  the  lion  and  the  leopard  cub, 

With  bleeding  wounds  are  prostrate  to  the  West ; 

In  bondage  to  the  priest  of  Christ  and  love 

Exiled  the  men  of  dusk  must  dwell  a  day. 

The  pale  and  yellow  ha  ired  from  distant  shores 

Rob  Ghana  of  her  bronze  and  Congo  land 

Yields  tortured  slaves  to  grace  a  Christian  age. 

O,  World  Anew,  from  splendours  barbaric, 

From  fields  of  cocoa  and  of  drooping  date, 

From  houses  built  of  sunkist  bamboo  straw 

Thou  bringest  fathers  of  a  newer  race, 

Their  wrists  engyved,  their  souls  in  bitterness. 

O  Mighty  Universal  Diety, 

Upon  these  exiles  pour  thy  wond'rous  love, 

For  sorrow  shall  be  theirs  and  loneliness 

Among  a  people  who  forget  the  name 

Of  star  crowned  Ethiop  and  Nubia. 

44 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

III. 

The  chains  that  man  hath  forged  the  heavens  break, 

Divine  is  liberty  the  slaves  achieve; 

And  Hayti  smoulders  with  the  flames  of  dusk, 

Her  saviour  loving  Toussaint,  prince  of  men. 

The  years  may  glide  beyond  the  tide  of  time, 

The  stars  may  dim  with  age,  and  life  grow  faint, 

But  all  the  sons  of  men  shall  not  forget 

The  Western  Nazarene  who  died  with  love 

For  those  whose  treachery  caused  his  death. 

O  Toussaint,  may  thy  grave  be  ever  green 

With  wreaths  from  all  oppressed  throughout  the  world, 

May  fifty  thousand  drums  reveille  roll, 

A  tribute  to  thy  precious  memory. 

With  thee  the  renaissance  of  Ethiop 

Achieved,  like  other  fires,  was  quenched  awhile; 

The  cruel  splendour  Christophe  embraced, 

The  anarchy  that  followed  Citadels 

Was  not  of  thee,  or  thine,  great  Star  of  Dusk. 

Thy  message  came  to  old  Virginia's  woods, 

"Ah !    Freemen  shall  we  be",  gaunt  Turner  cries 

And  with  the  courage  of  the  patriot 

He  fought  a  day  to  give  our  land  the  glow 

Of  liberty,  fraternity,  and  love. 

He  fought  a  day,  and  died  a  traitor's  death, 

But  bright  his  halo,  green  his  laurel  crown. 

Each  blow  for  freedom  struck  is  freedom's  gain, 

And  Ethiop  shall  yet  stretch  forth  her  hand. 

4(5 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

IV. 

When  Night  surrounds  the  slave,  and  hope  lies  cold. 

The  daytime  breaks  and  Frederic  is  borne 

On  Fortune's  tide  to  plead  the  cause  of  right. 

Men  marvel  that  a  lowly  son  of  dusk 

Could  move  to  tears  the  hardened  soul  of  greed, 

And  crown  his  massive  brow  with  laurel  wreath. 

His  heart  rejoiced  when  war  destroyed  the  chains 

That  kept  to  earth  his  brothers  of  the  dusk, 

And  when  the  sun  of  Freedom  shone  awhile 

He  marched  abreast  with  Toil  to  save  his  race 

Ah !  hear  the  bells  a-ringing  through  the  world, 

"The  slave  is  free!     Grim  bondage  dies  to-night!" 

O  blessed  war,  that  saved  humanity, 

That  gave  the  men  of  dusk  the  freemen's  right, 

How  many  sons  of  Ethiop  were  thine ! 

How  many  fell  with  Shaw  ere  peace  returned! 

Their  graves  unknown,  who  strews  for  them  sweet 

flowers  ? 

Who  keeps  their  memory  with  incense  fresh? 
How  many  when  young  Cuba,  lashed  by  Spain, 
A  greater  country  saved,  were  lost  at  war ! 
No  truer  soldiers  live  than  men  of  dusk, 
No  better  lovers  of  the  starry  flag. 
No  hope  is  theirs  but  welfare  of  the  world, 
No  honours  for  the  fighters  of  the  dusk, 
Are  these  rewards,  O  great  America? 
Obscurity,  oppression,  bitter  scorn, 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

The  right  to  serve,  but  never  right  to  share. 
Give  us  our  liberty  or  give  us  death ! 

V. 

And  now  that  Freedom's  orb  so  brightly  burns 
From  crimson  clay  in  old  Virginia  soil 
Sweet  Nature  moulds  another  Washington; 
Upon  his  brow  she  sets  a  flaming  star, 
Upon  his  lips  the  fire  that  never  dies, 
And  smiles  when  men  before  his  gospel  bow, — 
"The  hand  of  toil  alone  will  rule  the  world." 
O  Washington,  may  day  upon  us  break ! 
May  great  America  at  last  be  free, 
And  true  democracy  where  work  is  law 
A  common  gift  to  all  humanity. 
Tuskegee's  glory  through  the  ages  lives 
The  light  that  makes  Columbia  a  queen 
Among  the  toiling  nations  of  the  earth, 
Tuskegee  stands  a  stone  in  Jacob's  dream, 
A  ladder  leading  to  the  Gates  of  Pearl, — 
And  Washington  alone  hath  laid  the  stone. 

VI. 

There  sits  aloft  among  the  jaspar  gates 
Far  famed  the  brooding  spirit  of  his  race, 
A  gentle  soul  by  grim  injustice  wracked 
He  looks  in  vain  for  hope,  though  he  is  hope. 
O  Ethiopia  ,in  him  thy  King, 
Thy  weaver  of  the  vieipn  glorious, 
Thy  lover  begging  for  thy  liberty. 

47 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

When  Nature  moulded  him  she  chose  a  clay 

So  fine  it  could  not  bear  a  cruel  storm; 

But  shaped  his  ponderous  brow  for  laurel  wreath. 

In  ages  yet  unborn  the  child  of  dusk 

In  reverence  shall  bow  to  Burghardt's  name, 

And  all  the  world  shall  love  a  patriot. 

VII. 

O  sons  of  Libya,  thy  name  will  live 
The  bearers  of  the  Cross  on  Calvary; 
Around  thee  wrapt  the  mantle  of  the  dusk, 
In  thee  the  world  will  find  another  dawn, 
Around  thee  shall  the  hour  of  twilight  glow, 
When  day  upon  thee  breaks  a  golden  throne 
Awaits  thee  in  the  land  of  rising  sun, 
Thy  faith,  thy  deeds,  thy  love  for  fellow  men 
Shall  be  thy  sceptre  and  thy  coronet, 
Before  thee  shall  the  vaunting  nations  bow 
In  reverence  to  crowned  humility. 

And  thus  I  sing  the  song  of  Ethiop 
Though  I  am  dwelling  in  a  stranger's  land, 
A  lonely  minstrel,  born  to  serve  and  love 
Throughout  the  world  his  fellows  of  the  dusk. 

DE   CHU'CH. 

'Way  down  de  lane,  behin*  a  row  o'  trees, 
Whaih  all  de  summah  croons  de  softes'  breeze 

48 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

De  ol*  plantashun  chu'ch  am  shinin'  white. 
We  da'kies  lingah  daih  each  Sund'y  night, 
A-shoutin'  praise  to  Gawd  an*  Jesus,  too. 
We  love  de  benches,  made  o'  pine  tree  wood, 
We  love  de  place  whaih  all  de  elduhs  stood 
Each  qua'tly  meetin'  day,  a  singin'  himes 
An*  tellin'  us  erbout  de  good  ol'  times 
W'en  'ligion  was  de  only  thing  on  earf . 
De  preachuh's  haid  widout  an  inch  o'  turf 
Went  waggin'  'way  lak  he's  b'en  set  on  fiah 
"O  Chillun,  in  de  hebben  libs  de  quiah 
Ob  dose  who  shaired  de  trubbles  ob  de  Lawd, 
Ob  dose  who  found  below  de  love  ob  Gawd. 
Come  throw  yo'  se'f  befo'  de  Mussy  Seat, 
Come  wash  in  Jesus  blood  yo'  sinful  feet. 
De  Son  ob  Man's  de  Shephud  ob  de  fol', 
De  cripple  lam*  beneaf  His  cloak  He  hoi'. 
In  Hebben  He  hab  filled  yo'  honey  dish, 
Yo'  comin'  homewa'd's  all  dat  He  kin  wish." 
He  hug  de  bible,  an'  de  sistahs  shout 
A-puttin'  all  de  debbils  to  de  rout, 
"Ol'  Mount  Moriah's  lifted  to  de  sky 
An'  anguls  on  de  wing  go  flittin'  by. 
But  w'en  de  deacon  pass  de  wine  an'  braid 
Each  Christ'un  soul  in  reverence  hang  his  haid. 
He  am  de  chosen  brothah  ob  de  King, 
An'  low  an'  mounful  lak  he's  sho'  to  sing, 
"Ah  want  to  meet  mah  Saviour  face  to  face." 
No,  honey !  all  de  worl'  Idn  hoi'  no  place 

49 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Jes'  lak  de  ol'  plantashun  chu'ch  ob  mine; 

It  am  de  manshun  ob  de  lowly  folk, 

It  am  de  spot  whaih  Gawd  Himself  hab  spoke, 

It  am  de  only  place  to  shake  de  ban', 

An*  know  dat  you's  as  good  as  any  man. 

Oh,  dat's  de  place  fu'  me  to  live  an'  die, 

Beneaf  de  Mussy  ob  de  Saviour's  eye. 

DE   MULE. 

1. 

Oh,  sweet  de  wa'blin'  ob  de  mockin'  bu'd, 
A  singin*  to  de  moon  his  song  ob  love, 
Oh,  sweet  de  voice  ob  Dinah  in  de  dew 
A  singin',  "Honey,  you's  mah  tu'tle  dove" ; 
Oh,  sweet  de  angel  on  de  golden  street 
A  singin',  "Satan  sho's  a  mighty  fool," 
But  nevah  hab  ah  hu'd  a  voice  so  sweet 
As  Jasper's  brayin',  an'  he's  mah  good  ol'  mule. 

2. 

It  soun's  jes'  lak  de  thundah  in  de  sky 
A  rollin'  swiftly  down  to  Jordan's  stream, 
It  soun's  jes'  lak  de  cannons  in  de  war 
A  makin'  ob  dis  worl'  a  mighty  dream 
It  soun's  jes'  lak  de  shoutin*  ob  de  men 
Dat  lapped  wid  Gideon  fun  out  de  pool, 
It  soun's  as  if  de  sweetes'  note  ob  all 
Am  dat  dat  come  f'um  jes'  a  plain  ol'  mule. 

50 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 


QUESTIONS. 

1. 

"Whaih's  de  twilight,  Mammy  Lou?" 
*  'Way  beyond  de  drippin'  dew, 
Whaih  de  angels  run  an'  hide 
Happy  by  ol'  Jawdon's  tide." 

2. 

Whaih's  de  moonlight,  Mammy  Lou?" 
"Whaih  de  day's  a-slippin'  thoo, 
An'  de  lamp  called  Lub's  tu'ned  high — 
Nevah  kin  de  moon  go  dry." 

3. 

"Whaih's  de  sunlight,  Mammy  Lou?" 
"Why  Ah  thought  you  allus  knew 
Dat  yo'  hea't's  de  wahm  sunlight 
An'  yo'  love's  de  moon  o'  night." 

LYRICS  OF  LOVE. 

LYRIC  ONE. 
1. 

When  in  Slumberland  the  dreams  go  forth 
To  my  heart  a  darling  maiden  comes, 
Stardust  are  her  eyes,  her  lips  love  flame, 
And  an  angel  tune  she  softly  hums. 

51 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

II. 

Never  'neath  the  dwelling  place  of  God, 
Never  by  the  lake  or  by  the  sea, 
Was  a  man  so  blest  as  I  am  blest 
With  the  love  that  Clara  gives  to  me. 

III. 

Oh,  my  heart  will  burn  for  ages  long 
From  a  fever  that  will  never  die, 
For  in  Slumber  land  an  elfin  rogue 
Poured  his  magic  lotion  on  my  eye. 

LYRIC  TWO. 

I. 

This  is  the  hour,  my  love,  the  hour  of  tryst; 
The  earth  is  sleeping  in  the  cool  of  dusk, 
The  lily-of-the  valley  nods  and  sways, 
The  air  is  drooping  with  the  perfumed  musk. 

II. 

Ah!  open  wide,  my  love,  thy  garden  gate; 
Eftsoons  the  ancient  moon  will  ply  her  barge, 
For  thee  I  bring  sweet  Cupid's  rosary, 
To  thee  a  book  of  kisses  do  I  charge. 

III. 

When  Eden's  glory  thrived,  fair  Eve  was  won 
At  such  an  hour  as  this,  our  trysting  hour, 
And  burning  Romeo,  when  Night  was  Queen, 
Enthralled  young  Juliet  within  her  bower. 

52 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

IV. 

Then  blest  be  every  hour  that  Love  holds  sway, 
And  sweet  the  roses  of  the  eventide. 
Then  blest  the  crucial  moment  of  this  life, 
When  down  the  stream  of  passion  sweethearts  glide. 

LYRIC   THREE. 

I. 

Sweet  pigeon  carrier  upon  my  roof, 
Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me  how  my  lover  fares ! 
Last  night  to  war  he  marched,  his  breast  aglow, 
Within  his  heart  his  troubled  country's  cares. 

II. 

"O  lovely  maiden,  many  tears  shall  fall 
Ere  to  thy  bosom  shall  thy  lover  fly; 
Beneath  the  Belgian  moon,  in  bloody  death, 
With  thousands  does  your  ardent  lover  lie." 

III. 

Oh,  woe  is  me !    The  moon  and  stars  have  died, 
No  more  for  me  the  dance  on  village  green ; 
My  couch  is  spread  upon  the  meadowland, 
Six  feet  of  darkness  'neath  the  churchyard  green. 

LYRIC  FOUR. 

I. 

Returned  am  I,  my  trusted  sweetheart  dead; 
Upon  her  lonely  grave  Golgotha's  Cross, 

53 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Upon  the  stone  the  dreaded  legend  "Gone !" 
Upon  the  mound  a  spray  of  hawthorn  moss. 

II. 

She  went  when  Springtime  kissed  the  sleeping  earth, 
Too  soon  to  fall  the  prey  of  brooding  grief. 
For  one  who  shall  be  lonely  through  the  years, 
She  gave  the  God  of  Death  a  life  too  brief. 

III. 

I  care  not  now  what  woes  may  fall  on  me, 
The  sorrow  infinite  is  ever  mine. 
Beside  the  river  Lethe  I  shall  muse, 
But  never  taste  the  sweetness  of  the  wine. 

WHEN  APRIL  COMES. 

1. 

When  April  comes  as  April  will 
No  more  in  eagerness  my  soul 
Shall  cringe  and  ask  that  thou  shalt  hear 
My  humble  songs,  my  melody; 
No  more  shall  I  go  panting  forth, 
Close  'pon  me  wild  hounds  hot  o'  breath. 
For  in  the  April  time  my  hour 
Shall  dawn,  the  hour  of  tranquil  dusk; 
And  when  the  earth  is  all  anew, 
Revived  by  hope  the  springtime  grants, 
I  know  that  I  shall  drift  away, 
Where  poets  have  their  holiday. 

54 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

Oh,  heavy  is  this  life  of  mine, 

And  I,  a  broken  reed  'mongst  men. 

I  lived  a  plaintive  melody, 

Unsung,  unloved,  unknown,  unwept. 

I  loved  as  every  youth  will  love, 

But  she  on  whom  I  poured  my  love 

Was  not  for  me, — I  know  not  why, 

I  dreamed  as  every  youth  should  dream, 

But  all  my  dreams  to  air  have  changed, 

And  now  that  I  am  going  forth 

To  break  my  wand  I  breathe  a  prayer 

That  those,  my  brothers  of  the  dusk, 

Shall  not  forget  that  I  have  lived 

But  in  the  tide  of  love  shall  drop 

Upon  my  lonely  grave  a  rose, 

For  one  who  lived  his  life  for  them. 

THE   CLINGING  KISS. 
I. 

The  earth  awhirl, 
Sweetheart,  I  wander  far 
Adown  the  crowded  street, 
Upon  my  burning  lips 

The  clinging  kiss. 
II. 

A  thousand  years 
May  sear  this  life  of  mine, 

55 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

But  in  my  memory 

I  hold  one  treasure  dear, 

The  clinging  kiss. 
III. 

A  thousand  caravans 
May  bear  a  wealth  untold, 
The  stones  of  India 
Will  pale  beside  my  gem, 

The  clinging  kiss. 
IV. 

O  wondrous  love, 
That  burns  to  ash  my  heart, 
Give  back  to  me  that  hour 
She  placed  upon  my  lips 

The  clinging  kiss. 

EULOGY  ON  THE  FAIRIES. 

Oh,  where  are  the  fairies  now? 

Poverty,  poverty, 

Hast  thou  robbed  the  merry  elves 

Of  their  right  to  live  and  breathe? 

Barren  is  the  Southland  now, 

There  the  dusk  men  writhe  in  pain; 

Barren  is  old  Amsterdam, 

There  each  year  we  offer  babes 

On  the  shrine  of  Gold  and  Greed ; 

Barren  is  Killarney's  green, 

56 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 

Erin's  fairies  pine  away 

For  the  light  of  liberty; 

From  his  cave  hoar  Merlin  cries, 

"Self!    Self!      Self !  hath  killed  the  elves, 

Self,  the  basest  of  the  God; 

Nevermore,  nevermore, 

Shall  the  airy  creatures  rove 

With  their  magic  caps  and  bells, 

Spreading  wonder  everywhere; 

Fairy  night  hath  turned  to  day 

Moonlight  fades,  the  stars  are  dead, 

Naught  can  bring  the  fairies  back, 

Naught  save  Love,  the  long  lost  Love, 

Bring  him  from  his  secret  lodge, 

Crown  his  brows,  and  let  him  reign, 

Seat  him  on  the  Throne  of  Years 

To  the  strain  of  minstrel  lyre. 

For  the  fairies  must  return 

Ere  the  twilight  of  the  earth/' 

Where  are  the  fairies  now? 

Titania  and  Oberon, 

And  Puck,  who  changed  the  night  to  day 

And  slept  beneath  the  rose  hued  sun? 


57 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

MEMORIES. 

1. 

When  at  evening  in  the  vale  I  walk, 
Wrapt  in  memories  of  dear  Lucille ; 
When  among  the  violets  I  lie, 
All  my  hours  of  love  before  me  steal. 

2. 

Earth  and  heaven  was  this  maid  to  me, 
And  her  voice  the  song  of  lark  and  wren; 
Now  that  she  hath  left  my  heart  I  know 
Through  the  love  of  women  God  makes  men. 

8. 

If  in  distant  countries  I  should  dwell 
With  a  people  strange  and  proudly  cold, 
I  would  always  see  my  long  lost  love 
In  the  heart  of  dying  marigold. 

WHEN  MY  BONNIE  DANCES. 
1. 

When  my  Bonnies  dances  earth  is  mine, 
And  a  thousand  kingdoms  I  can  see; 
I  am  thrilled  with  joy  and  love  and  hope, 
And  my  sweetheart's  goodness  comes  to  me. 
In  her  eye  the  vision  Hellas  knew, 
In  her  step  the  dream  o'  wanton  Rome; 
And  in  garb  o'  white  she  mocks  a  queen, 
As  she  finds  within  my  heart  a  home. 

58 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

2. 

When  my  Bonnie  dances  fields  are  green, 
Blood  stained  roses  bloom,  and  asphodel; 
And  Beloved  walks  awhile  with  me, 
Where  I  wooed  her  in  a  lonely  dell. 
Rivers  feel  the  warmth  o'  sunlit  gaze, 
Sweet  canary  sings  within  the  grove, 
And  I  nod  as  music  sways  my  nymph 
Where  the  sprites  of  Nature  lightly  rove. 

3. 

When  m  yBonnie  dances,  music's  stream, 
Silv'ry  white  as  glows  the  old  moon's  breast, 
Plows  into  the  liquid  veins  of  Youth, 
Warmer  than  a  maiden's  fond  caress; 
And  the  spheres  of  Heaven,  all  attuned, 
To  the  rhythmic  measure  sets  the  world, 
While  the  flowers  that  sleep  on  eve  of  snow 
From  their  beds  their  petals  gay  unfurl. 

4. 

Oh,  my  Bonnie,  thou  hast  won  a  crown, 
Love  and  worship  from  the  world  of  youth, 
And  through  dancing  graceful  thou  hast  carved 
On  our  hearts  the  magic  legend  TRUTH; 
Long  may  Bonnie  live  and  drink  the  sweets 
Men  call  living,  God  above  call  life, 
Long  may  Bonnie  live  and  never  know 
Woe  and  sorrow,  bitterness  and  strife. 


59 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 


MARY  ON  AUGUST  THE  FIRST. 

1. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Mary  in  the  cool  of  evening: 
"Oh  why  the  devastation  of  the  golden  wheatlands? 
Oh  why  the  burning  of  the  villages  and  homelands  ? 
My  shrines  are  broken,  and  my  statue  changed  to  bullets, 
My  lowly  Son  is  once  again  a  God  rejected, 
And  all  my  children  walk  the  way  of  life  in  darkness." 

2. 

I  bowed  to  earth  my  head,  and  thus  I  answered  Mary: 
"That  we  might  gather  in  the  vineyard  empty  glory, 
That  we  might  wear  a  ribbon  and  a  wreath  of  laurel, 
We  hurl  to  Hell  a  million  souls  and  go  our  way, 
The  laughing  demons  of  an  age  whose  God  is  sleeping, 
Forgetful  of  the  women  and  the  little  children, 
And  thrice  forgetful  of  the  chariot  of  progress." 

DOUGLAS. 

He  came  when  tyranny  was  ripe,  a  torch 

That  lit  the  darkened  avenue  of  hope, 

He  came  from  cabin,  ragged,  poor,  and  starved, 

And  walked  among  the  honoured  of  the  earth. 

His  cry  the  cry  of  Moses  to  the  King, 

"Oh,  let  my  people  go,  thou  freeborn  host, 

For  God  hath  heard  their  cry;  they  must  be  free." 

60 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

He  walked  not  shrouded,  but  with  manhood  stride. 

The  morning  of  a  people  long  oppressed, 

He  stood  within  the  palace  of  the  King 

And  cried,  "Give  them  their  rights;  they  must  be  free. 

These  lowly  folks, — my  brothers,  ay,  thine,  too 

Let  not  a  democratic  people  cringe 

To  selfish  idols,  childish  prejudice 

Let  not  the  future  ages  note  this  land 

That  broke  the  chains  Hanover's  puppet  forged 

Enslaves  and  keeps  enslaved  a  helpless  race, 

Whose  hand  has  never  struck  the  stars  and  stripes." 

Ah !  there  was  Phillips ;  there  was  Sumner,  too, 

With  Lowell,  Garrison,  and  Whittier, 

And  Brown,  whose  noble  life  Virginia  took, 

And  Stowe,  wohse  pen  awoke  the  slumbering  North; 

But  none  of  Afric  line  as  bold  as  he, 

As  fiery  and  inveterate  of  speech, 

As  monumental  of  the  intellect 

A  man  of  dusk  may  have,  tho'  born  in  chains — 

A  worthy  peer  for  such  a  company. 

When  chaos  ruled,  and  f reedmen  knew  not  where 

The  star  of  fortune  would  abide  with  them 

This  Douglas,  dauntless  as  the  wind  of  March, 

As  shepherd  guides  his  sheep  o'er  stony  crags 

He  guided  long  his  race,  all  bruised  and  torn, 

And  faltering  because  the  night  was  dark; 

Until  he  heard  the  still  small  voice  of  Death 

And  drifted  down  the  endless  stream  of  Time. 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

O  Dougles,  thou  hast  left  a  heritage 

To  those  whose  brows  are  pierced  by  thorned  crowns 

And  from  thy  couch  in  green  Elysium 

Where  thou  and  Sumner  and  the  laurelled  Grant, 

And  Ingersoll  and  Lincoln  watch  the  tide, 

Thy  voice  comes  down  to  us,  thy  bleeding  sheep. 

And  these  thy  words,  O  Prophet  of  the  Dusk! 

"Go  on,  my  Race,  the  sun  will  rise  again, 

The  Night  will  fade  as  darkness  ever  fades. 

No  race  can  always  bend  beneath  the  yoke, 

For  'tis  a  truth  the  wrath  of  those  oppressed 

Will  break  the  reins,  and  drink  of  liberty. 

Be  valiant,  true,  and  know  not  cowardice 

And  live  so  that  both  friend  and  foe  may  say, 

"Oh  they  were  great  in  adversity 

But  greater  in  the  hour  of  jubilee!*' 

Thus  speaks  our  Douglas  from  his  grave,  and  we 
Should  heed  his  mighty  voice,  lest  we  should  fail. 

OL'   AGE. 

1. 

Mandy,  we  is  growin*  ol'  an*  gray, 
F'om  us  life  is  ebbin*  eb'ry  day; 
We  is  nigh  de  time  when  angels  call 
"Come  to  Jesus  in  de  Golden  Hall." 
We  have  he'ped  each  othah  'long  de  road, 
Totin*  on  ouah  backs  de  heavy  load; 

62 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

We  have  made  dis  livin*  lak  a  song 
Dat  is  sung  in  Heaven  by  de  throng. 

2. 

Eyes  am  growin'  dim,  an*  bones  do  ache, 
Han's  dat  wu'ked  so  ha'd  begin  to  shake, 
Pickannines  grown  an'  gone  daih  way, — 
Life  is  lak  a  meller  autumn  day. 
Nuffin'  but  de  sleepin'  an*  de  dreams, 
Nuffin'  but  de  place  whaih  twilight  gleams, 
Nuffin'  do  but  pick  de  banjo  strings 
Whaih  de  vine  upon  de  cabin  clings. 

THE  WRAITHIE'S  MESSAGE. 

1. 

Last  night  before  my  window  came 
A  wraithie  bathed  in  living  flame, 
"I  am  a  herald  of  the  night, 
I  am  a  lonely,  lonely  wight. 

2. 

"Beside  the  sea  a  maiden  dwells, 
Her  voice  the  sound  of  lighthouse  bells, 
Her  eyes  the  green  of  starlit  sea, 
Her  soul  a  dwelling  place  for  thee. 

3. 

"Good  dreamer,  I  have  touched  her  heart, 
With  burning  song*I  touched  her  heart 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

And  now  her  dreams  are  all  of  thee — 
This  maiden  by  the  deathless  sea." 

4. 

Oh,  lead  me  hence,  good  elf  of  night, 
Oh,  lead  to  her  signal  light; 
For  I  am  weary  of  my  dreams, 
Long  weary  of  my  feverish  dreams. 

WASHIN'   DAY. 

1. 

Weddah  beats  de  dickens, 
Heat  wid  sweat  am  mixin* ; 
Pappy  wants  some  bac'n, 
But  he's  sh'  mistaken 

On  dis  washin'  day. 

2. 

Baby  in  de  grasses, 
Mouf  all  smeared  wid  lasses. 
Ain't  he  mostes'  cunnin'? 
Look-a-daih  he's  runnin' ! 

Knows  no  washin'  day. 

8. 

Who  am  dat  a-hidin'? 
Boy,  you  quit  yo'  slidin'. 
Heah,  you  lazy  sinnah, 
Come  an'  tuhn  dat  wrmgah, 

Dis  am  washin'  day. 

64 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

4. 

Lawd!  dese  suds  am  splashing 
Makin'  noise  dat's  crashin'; 
Put  dose  clo's  tuh  soakin', 
Asmy's  got  me  chokin* 

On  dis  washin'  day. 

5. 

No,  Ah  ain't  a  shu'kin', 
Jes'  tuh  keep  f 'urn  wu'kin' ; 
It's  de  robin's  singin', 
Sweetes*  freedom  bringin' 

F'um  dis  washin'  day. 

AT  THE  SHRINE  OF  MARY. 

1. 

"Mary  Mother,  we  are  twining  flowers, 
Flowers  gleaned  from  the  meadows,  pure  with  love, 
That  thy  golden  head  may  wear  a  crown 
Whiter  than  the  bosom  of  a  dove". 
Children  mine,  entwine  no  flowers  for  me; 
In  the  Kingdom  gleams  a  thousand  flowers, 
Richer  than  the  fairest  blooms  of  earth, 
Purer  than  a  maiden's  sacred  hours. 

2. 

Give  instead  the  treasures  of  thy  heart, 
Give  instead  a  garland  of  thy  deeds, 
Shower  thy  mercies  on  the*lowly  folk, 

65 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

Who  must  ever  dwell  among  the  weeds; 
London  beggars  cry,  and  Ireland  starves, 
Naked  Hindustan  is  pinched  for  food, 
Give  them,  my  children,  give  to  them; 
God  conceived  them,  they  are  Mary's  brood. 


Give  the  poor  oppressed  the  burning  lamp 

Liberty  hath  held  for  ages  long, 

Give  my  sisters  weapon  for  their  wrongs 

That  the  latter  days  may  glow  with  song; 

Let  the  bleeding  sons  of  Ethiop, 

Let  my  kinsmen,  seed  of  Israel, 

Hear  no  more  the  word  of  hate  and  scorn, 

Feel  no  more  the  fire  of  living  Hell. 

4. 

"Mary  Mother,  we  are  twining  flowers, 

Flowers  gleaned  from  the  meadows  pure  with  love, 

That  thy  golden  head  may  wear  a  crown 

Whiter  than  the  bosom  of  a  dove; 

Love  the  petal,  Love  the  calyx  too, 

Love  of  man  and  love  of  womankind, 

Betterment  for  all  who  walk  in  pain — 

Those  are  flowers  our  hearts  have  long  enshrined." 


66 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


A  PILGRIM  OF  THE  DUSK. 
1. 

Out  of  the  dusk  came  I, 

A  strong  man  I,  song  sheafed, 

My  star  humanity, 

My  brow  with  sorrow  leafed; 

I  saw  the  Giant  of  Love 

Upon  the  Northern  Pole, 

"I  know  thee  not",  he  cried, 

"I  know  no  flame  bound  soul." 

2. 

Oh,  lonely  is  my  road, 
No  merry  pilgrim  here. 
The  darkness  is  my  shroud, 
My  drink  a  bitter  tear; 
Tho'  Love  hath  passed  me  by 
I  see  the  After-Glow, 
And  when  my  day  is  done 
The  Angels  I  shall  know. 

DEATH. 

When  from  Eden's  land  we  stray 
In  the  morningtime  of  life 
God  in  pity  kisses  us 

And  around  us  sheds  His  love 

Men  have  named  this  wonder  Death. 

67 


VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


WARNING. 

Keep  yo'  eyes  ez  tight  ez  tight  kin  be, 

Mammy's  erroun',  Mammy's  erroun'; 
Lock  yo'  lips,  an*  lock  'em  wid  a  key, 

Mammy's  erroun',  Mammy's  erroun'; 
In  huh  han's  a  great  big  hic'ry  stick, 
An'  de  fustes'  one  she  gibs  a  lick, 
How  de  rascal  sma't  an'  how  he  yell, 
How  de  uddas  grin,  fu'  know  day  well, 

Mammy's  erroun',  Mammy's  erroun'. 

2. 
Doan'  you  sass,  o'  hu't  de  preachuh  man, 

Mammy's  erroun*,  Mammy's  erroun'. 
Doan'  you  try  tuh  fill  his  hat  wid  san', 

Mammy's  erroun',  Mammy's  erroun' ; 
Bestes'  close  yo'  eyes  an'  say  yo'  pra'rs, 
Stiffen  up  an'  git  yo'  Sunday  a'rs, 
Pass  de  preachuh  man  de  chicken  bres' 
An'  be  listnin'  close  tuh  all  he  says, 

•  Mammy's  erroun',  Mammy's  erroun'. 

DECLARATION. 

1. 

I  love  the  world  and  all  therein: 
The  panting,  darkened  souls  who  seek 
A  brighter  light,  a  sweeter  hope, 

68 


VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

From  those  who  drink  the  bubbling  wine 
And  eat  the  flesh  of  tender  fowl; 
I  love  the  pampered  son  af  wealth, 
And  pour  on  him  my  pity's  oil, 
This  world  our  God  hath  made  for  all, — 
The  East,  the  West,  the  black,  the  white, 
The  rich,  the  poor,  the  wise,  the  dumb, — 
And  even  beasts  may  share  the  fruit; 
No  prison  wall,  but  sunlight's  glow, 
No  rods  of  steel,  but  arms  of  love, 
For  all  that  creep  and  walk  and  strive 
And  wear  upon  their  countenance 
Creation's  mark,  the  kiss  of  God. 

TURN  DOWN  THE  LAMP. 

Turn  down  the  lamp;  my  life  is  done. 

The  fitful  moments  drift  to  ease — 

Rosemary  for  the  dreams  that  died, 

And  mignonette  for  cherished  hopes. 

Turn  down  the  lamp;  my  soul  gains  life; 

I  rise  above  the  narrow  pale 

Of  cities  bought  with  gold  and  slime, 

I  spread  my  sorrow  strengthened  wings 

Above  the  armies  of  the  world, 

In  quest  of  kingdoms  built  in  youth. 

The  hour  of  death  that  men  call  life 

Is  closing  as  a  troubled  dream, 

The  flame  within  my  lamp-is  low, 

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VISIONS  OF  THE  DUSK. 

I  seek  eternal  liberty, 

The  freedom  of  the  endless  sky. 

Good  nurse,  enfold  my  arms, 

And  cool  the  fever  of  my  brow, 

My  hour  has  come,  turn  down  the  lamp. 

COMIN'  HOME. 

1. 

Oh,  Ah  hyeahs  de  ol'  tahm  bells  a-ringin', 

Comin'  home!     Comin'  home! 
Sweetuh  dan  de  angel  hahp  de  singin', 

Comin'  home!    Comin'  home! 
Bu'dens  dat  Ah's  toted  fifty  yeahs 
Ah  has  laid  away  wid  foolish  teahs, 
To  de  skies  Ah  raise  mah  weary  eyes 
An*  to  Dinah  honey  long  Ah  cries 
Comin'  home!     Comin'  home! 

2. 

Oh,  Ah  hyeahs  de  ol'  tahm  folk  a-callin* 

Comin'  home!     Comin'  home! 
Cross  de  Jawdon  shadders  gently  fallin' 

Comin'  home!     Comin'  home! 
Down  de  stream  dey  float  de  ol'  flat  boat, 
Songs  ob  sorrer  comin'  f'om  daih  th'oat, 
Dey  is  gwine  to  tote  mah  soul  away 
Whaih  de  moonlight  tu'ns  de  night  to  day, 
Comin'  home!    Comin'  home! 


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VISIONS  OP  THE  DUSK. 


L'ENVOI. 

The  dreamer  nods,  and  honeyed  sleep 
His  eyelids  woo;  his  day  is  done. 
No  more  the  vision  burns  his  soul, 
But  lives  within  his  memory. 
Her  shadow  mantle  Evening  drops; 
The  bee  is  drowsy  on  the  vine; 
From  heart  of  rose  the  pollen  drips, 
And  dripping  blinds  the  fairy's  eye. 
Across  the  surging  tide  of  Night 
Comes  reasonant  the  voice  of  God 
"Oh  Love! — True  love  is  best  of  all; 
It  lives  ...   it  lives  beyond  the  years/' 


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